Taken by the Viking. Michelle StylesЧитать онлайн книгу.
if she is discovered on her own again. You are lucky it was me and not another member of the felag.’
Haakon frowned as he regarded where the woman crouched at his feet. She had not moved since he had hit Thrand.
He had thought to leave her, safe and unharmed, by the rocks, her presence undetected by the rest of the Vikens. But Thrand had seen her, heard her speak in Latin. Thrand was not stupid. He would reach the same conclusion that Haakon had—this woman was high born and potentially worth a great deal of money. In this state, she would be prey for all the men.
It was a total victory for the men of Viken. His mouth twisted. A lone woman would be subjected to untold dangers. He would not do that even to his worst enemy. And this woman he had sworn to protect. No, she would have to come under his direct guard, and when they returned to Viken, he’d use his contacts with the court of Charlemagne and the Holy Roman Empire to send a ransom message to her family.
‘It is for me to decide. She belongs to me now.’
‘I apologise again, Haakon.’ Thrand made a bow. ‘I had no idea whom she belonged to.’
‘You know now. And by the blood that we share, I challenge you to remember it. Do not covet those things that are mine.’
‘I never have. Do not burden me with my mother’s ambition.’
Thrand stiffened and stalked off towards the boats.
Haakon allowed him to walk away before he turned his attention to the woman, who had not moved from the spot on the ground. He reached forward and twitched the dagger from her belt. ‘Mine, I believe.’
She struggled to an upright position and her eyes blazed. Her hand made an ineffectual grab at the blade, but Haakon calmly tucked it into his belt.
‘What right have you? Give it back!’
‘I told you that you would be safe if you stayed by the rocks. You chose to disobey me.’
‘I had to find my maidservant….’ She pushed her wild brown hair out of her eyes and held out her hands, beseeching him. ‘You remember the woman who tripped you.’
‘And did you find her?’ Haakon allowed no softness to enter his voice. ‘Where is she? Or has she been carried off by another?’
‘She’s dead.’ A look of immense pain and sorrow crossed her face. ‘The pigsty’s roof collapsed on her.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘I told her to hide there. That she would be safe. And she wasn’t…It was a mistake to come here, but I had to do my duty.’ She put her hands on her face. ‘Do you understand that? Will you let me go—as you did before?’
Haakon resisted the urge to sweep her into his arms.
‘You are my captive now. Lindisfarne is not safe for you. It is not safe for anyone.’
She made no move, but simply stood looking at him. Her eyes wore a haunted expression. Despite the warm air, she shivered slightly, her body convulsing. Her lips held a bluish tinge, but she kept her body erect and did not collapse into a ball again.
Haakon undid his cloak and put it around her shoulders, fastening the trefoil brooch under her chin.
The heavy weight of the cloak pinned Annis down. She wanted to fling it off and run, but her encounter with the other warrior had made her wary. The cloak retained the warmth from his body. The heat rose, enveloping her, reminding her of the kiss they had shared earlier. His not-unpleasant scent filled her nostrils, surrounding her. Somehow, it felt intimate in a way she had not felt before. Her late husband would never have offered her his cloak.
Her hands fumbled with the catch. She had to give it back. She had no right to wear it. The brooch pricked her finger and she brought it to her mouth with a sudden exclamation of pain.
‘Leave it on.’ Haakon’s voice allowed for no refusal.
What was she exactly? Captives were not given cloaks. She had glimpsed the groups of dispirited monks tied together. Her hands were free. There had been no humiliation…yet. She allowed her hands to fall to her sides.
‘You wear a determined look on your face, Valkyrie.’
‘Everything is going up in flames. I am a prisoner,’ she said as a group of Norse warriors sauntered passed, carrying chalices, the remains of crosses and several bottles of mead. ‘My life. My world. Nothing will ever be the same again.’
‘The world constantly changes.’ Haakon placed his hands on her shoulders. ‘But you live. You will see the sun rise and set again.’
Annis knew she should pull away, but her body refused to move. In this unrecognisable world, Haakon represented something safe and solid. The warmth from his hands flooded through her body. His face was so close, if she lifted her lips but a fraction, she knew they would brush his. She closed her eyes, savouring the sensation. She longed to lay her head against his chest. Did it make her wicked? Her head pained her.
Then she forced her eyes open and stepped backwards. Her fingers worked the catch and the cloak fell away from her shoulders.
‘I will be warm enough.’ Annis kept her head proud and erect, met Haakon’s eye. ‘You will need it.’
‘The cloak stays about your shoulder. It shows others in the felag whom you belong to. You will be unmolested both here and on the boat. I have no wish to rescue you another time.’
A shiver went through Annis. Belong to? Her mind had tried to avoid the word, but he had uttered it. She was his captive, his slave. Why had she saved his life? Surely it would have been better if she had escaped while he fought the beast. A little voice nagged at the back her mind—but look what happened to Mildreth. Do you wish to share her fate? And she knew that she wanted to live.
‘I don’t understand these words you use,’ she said to distract her thoughts away from her captivity. If she could keep him talking, then maybe she could figure out a way to escape. ‘Felag—it means nothing to me.’
‘Many of your words were foreign when I first began trading.’ A slight smile came on his lips. ‘You have yet to give me a name. Or shall I choose one for you? I knew you were high born from the instant you spoke in the upstairs room. What serf’s daughter has Latin falling so readily off her tongue?’
Annis glanced down at the dirt. Her throat closed. She had no wish to lose her name. ‘Annis,’ she whispered. ‘Annis of Birdoswald, near the River Irthing. My father was the Eorl of Birdoswald.’
‘When it is safe, I will inform your people where you are, Annis of Birdoswald.’
Annis clenched her fists so tight they hurt. She knew what letting her people know meant. Haakon would ask for a ransom.
‘When will you let them know?’ There was nothing she could do about the demand. It happened in war. Selwyn had been ransomed twice—from a Scot’s cave and later from Mercia. It was expected. But much of her family’s wealth was in the chests that the Norsemen now piled up.
Would they ransom her or would her family simply see it as a judgement from God? Her stepfather might use her capture as the final excuse he needed to secure Birdoswald for himself. But there again, he might retain a vestige of honour and duty.
‘In good time, and from a position of strength.’ His face was hard, and his eyes fierce.
Annis nodded. The raiders would not stay here. There were too few of them to hold this island in the face of attack from the Northumbrians. And it would not just be the Northumbrians, but the whole of Britain when the news got out. No, they not would stay. They would return to their northern lands and she would go with them, to await a ransom that would probably never come.
‘What is a felag?’ she asked to distract her mind from the gloomy path it was following.
‘A felag is a fellowship of traders. We swore a binding blood-oath to each other